


Inexorable

by silver_fish



Series: ASLD Modern AU Epic [2]
Category: A Saga of Light and Dark - T. J. Chamberlain, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Sexual Content, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/pseuds/silver_fish
Summary: No matter how many years pass, Adrienne always stops to listen to her. It never changes, of course. She doesn't even know why she still hopes one day it might.
Relationships: Adrienne Cherri Smith/Ely Smith
Series: ASLD Modern AU Epic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982833





	Inexorable

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing maybe six weeks ago and i had a draft and everything and then it DELETED and i'm still kind of bitter. anyway, i wrote this probably because i was just getting ready myself to go home for christmas and wasn't having such a great time with it. my therapist says often that my biggest trigger being a person - and especially one i don't see so often anymore - means that it's likely that person always will be able to trigger me, ie put me right back into the mindsets and mechanisms that defined my childhood, but the point is that i remove myself from it more often and get better at coping with the aftermath in particular. hence, adrienne is 33 here, which means it's nearly been 15 years since she and ely got married, but katina still triggers her, basically. i get really sick of narratives about "healing" from childhood trauma, because, let's be real, that shit doesn't go away. anyway, all that follows...if adrienne is 33, then nerissa is 12, poseidon is 8 (just, though; his birthday would have been quite recent), and ely is 35. they live in queens for the record! i don't think there are any warnings outside of the tags, so...enjoy! :)

Eight million people.

_That’s_ how many people live in New York City. Never mind all the tourists on any given day. Maybe ten million, then. Fourteen. Who knows? Adrienne doesn’t particularly like the feel of the city herself, but she knows Ely does; their choice to settle where they did was a good compromise overall, and she can admit that being located _in_ the city isn’t so bad. It makes for a nice trip once in a while. It was something neither of them had as kids, so a day in the most tourist-heavy areas of Brooklyn or Manhattan every now and then is good for them all. She gets the sense that Nerissa is a lot more like her father in this regard; even now, at twelve, she is enamoured with this side of urban life. Already planning out her entire college life, to what Adrienne has worried is an obsessive degree, but Ely just laughed at her.

“She’s just like _you_ ,” he said, which, she has to concede, is sort of true.

She won’t get involved in Nerissa’s plans for the future, though, won’t do more than listen and offer an enthusiastic ear. No suggestions or preferences, and she knows Nerissa is looking for these things from her, but she just can’t give them. She is mostly grateful that, though it is on her list perhaps just because it _sounds_ good, Nerissa doesn’t seem overly interested in Harvard.

Of course, Adrienne’s never mentioned it to her, and she doubts Ely has either.

But Nerissa’s mind isn’t on college today. It’s summer, anyway; Adrienne doesn’t think _anyone_ should be thinking about school during the summer.

They’re in good spirits, really. They let the kids pick a place to sit down and eat before they take the train back home, which Adrienne suspects will lead to a very peaceful night. Poseidon looks exhausted, and Nerissa isn’t too far behind him. They’ll be half asleep before they even get back to the house.

It all sounds very good, except that Nerissa and Poseidon argue for a long while on where they ought to eat, and when Adrienne finally just says, “Pick something or _I_ will,” they’re quick to agree on a relatively fancy-looking place very nearby. She has to acquiesce, though; she _is_ the one who pressured them. It’s not as if they’ll find anything especially cheap here anyway, and they already told Nerissa not to worry about money. They are still well within Adrienne’s budget.

It turns out not to be so bad anyway. The food is good, and they spend the course of their meal talking over all they did today. Or, listening to Nerissa talk about it, at least. Poseidon seems far more interested in how many different animal shapes he can make out of his napkin.

No, the meal is perfectly fine. It’s wonderful, even. It’s the part that comes after it that isn’t so much so.

They’re walking out, and Adrienne wouldn’t have even looked over if not for the hostess saying, “Is that just for one, ma’am?” and the more familiar voice: “No, my husband will be along shortly.”

She freezes, and at first Ely and the kids don’t notice, but then her eyes are on the woman just behind her, on her dark hair, her ridiculously overpriced pseudo-formal casual outfit, the mention of _her husband_ , and she says it _just like that_ and Adrienne can imagine the look on her face so perfectly, that practiced impassivity over irritated blue eyes.

“Adrienne?”

Her heart falls down into her stomach. It is too late, she has already heard him and now she is turning to face Adrienne and—

_Eight million people_ , and she is not even _one_ of them.

Their eyes meet just as Ely steps closer to her again, a concerned hand on her shoulder. His other arm is wrapped around a drowsy Poseidon and Nerissa stands just behind him, peeking around him curiously.

“Adrienne,” Katina repeats. “ _Adrienne_.”

She closes her eyes, takes one, two, three deep breaths, then opens them again and raises a trembling hand to pull Ely’s away from her.

“I’ll meet you outside,” she says quietly.

“But—”

“Please.”

He just watches her for a moment, then gives a small nod and reaches for Nerissa to pull her along, but she is not having any of it.

“Aren’t you coming, Mom?”

“Issa, just come wait outside.”

She’s looking at Adrienne, though, eyebrows furrowed. “But what—?”

“Listen to your father,” Adrienne tells her, and perhaps she should be grateful that Katina is watching, that she can see and hear just how _steady_ she is being even though her throat feels like it is closing up and her heart is roaring in her ears and she wants nothing more than to run away, but she can’t, not this time, not from her…

“That is terribly unfair, Adrienne,” Katina speaks up. “Don’t I have a right to meet my only grandchildren?”

Nerissa is staring at her, and now Poseidon’s interest has been piqued too. He slips out from Ely’s grasp to stand by his sister, more alert than he has been all evening.

“You… You’re…?”

Katina’s gaze sweeps over to Nerissa and she smiles. “Oh, yes, and _you_ must be Nerissa, is that right?”

“You have no business with our children,” Ely says coolly. “And no right to call yourself their family, either.”

Adrienne takes in a sharp, stilted breath. He glances sideways at her, looking pained, but turns again just as quickly when a sneering Katina says, “ _You_ , this is _your_ fault, you disgusting—”

“Please just wait outside,” Adrienne says, voice pitched too loud, too high. “Follow your father, both of you. I’ll be there soon.”

Whether it is the words Katina did not get a chance to speak or Adrienne’s tone, she cannot say, but Nerissa nods and turns around to let Ely pull her and Poseidon for the door.

“Adrienne, you’ve already hurt me enough. I can still forgive you for all of this, but to deprive me of my _family_ …”

The door opens and closes behind them and Adrienne turns her head, slowly, to face her mother again. “ _Your_ family? Are you kidding me?”

“No matter how you treat me, you will _always_ be my daughter. I love you. I know you know this.”

Adrienne sets her shoulders, jaw clenching. She won’t look away from her, she won’t bow to her, never again…

“I have been patient,” Katina continues. “I’ve waited fifteen years for you to see some sense, but you always turn me away. I am ready to move past this all. You are too stubborn.”

“I…”

“I know you love us. We will give you another chance. I promise.”

Adrienne bites her lip hard, trying hard to just— _think_ , she has to think, this is the thing she has spent so many years rewiring her brain for, all this time to not let her mother chew up her heart and spit it back out again, as she does _every time_ …

But she _is_ stubborn. It is that little grain of hope, that little flicker, and it never goes _away_.

“Do you mean that? You—you can’t— The kids, they’re…”

“We can love them too,” Katina soothes her. “Shouldn’t they have us in their lives? Shouldn’t _you_? It does not matter that you’re an adult now. We’re your parents, Adrienne. We love you. We always did.”

The hostess is long gone, apparently content to let them talk until other patrons start coming in the door. But right now it is just them, and Ely, Nerissa, and Poseidon outside, and…

“I… You will? Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“B-but I…” She stops, swallows. “What about Ely?”

Katina’s gaze does not waver. “Well, you would have to leave him, of course. He is far too controlling. It will be better for you.”

“I can’t do that! We’re _married_.”

She shakes her head sadly. “I’m afraid that such allowances must be made. He is obviously not a fit husband or father. If it is the only way to keep you and the children from his influence…”

Adrienne takes a step back, legs trembling. “No, he—he’s not like that, he loves us—”

“Oh, of course he would say so, Adrienne, but he has been using you all this time, hasn’t he? He doesn’t love you. He loves _controlling_ you. But we can take care of you. I will look after you, as I have always tried my best to do. Just look how far you’ve fallen without my guidance.”

“I—I haven’t— I’m not…”

“I know it’s difficult.” Her eyes are glittering, oceanic sympathy. “It’s hard to confront such an ugly truth… But all this time, he’s been turning you against us. One day he’ll leave you and you will be all alone, and then who will help you?”

“He loves me, he—”

“Just listen to yourself, Adrienne. He has been doing this from the beginning. I’ve tried to tell you, every time, and you never listen to me, but you must hear me out now. Nobody will love you more than I will. You have children of your own now, so you must understand… It is my duty as your mother to love and protect you, but I cannot do that if you refuse to let me.”

It’s hard to think of anything but her earnest, open expression… She _means_ this, Adrienne knows she does, and it is true, isn’t it? Ever since that Christmas Eve all those years ago, Adrienne has been running away from her, never _listening_. And, too, it is true that it is most often Ely pulling her away, Ely telling her she oughtn’t call, but—

But has he ever actually _stopped_ her?

It is all so confusing, a massive, poignant fog in her head. On one side is her family, but then here, too, is her family, _Katina_ is her family, she always _has_ been.

Katina sighs. “I wish you had just listened to me. All of this could have been avoided. It will be difficult, but it isn’t too late to repent and better yourself and come back from all this horrible abuse.”

...Abuse?

Adrienne straightens up, pulse pounding. “Ely has _never_ hurt me. How—how _dare_ you—?”

“You are blinded by victimhood. But I see clearly, Adrienne. Don’t you trust me?”

“No! He’s not _abusive_ , my— What the hell is wrong with you? I love him!”

“That is what all women like you say. You will come to see it for the lie it is in time.”

“ _No_ , I won’t, it’s not a _lie_.”

“It is,” she says calmly. “He does not love you. You only believe you love him because he has hurt you so badly. He has taken you from the people who _really_ love you. He won’t be there forever, Adrienne. You, as you are now...you are a pitiful woman. Only your mother, only _I_ could possibly love you now, but life is long. There is still plenty of time to fix yourself. You can still be forgiven. You can be that loveable, intelligent young woman you were before he poisoned your mind.”

But, no, she _knows_ the truth, and the truth is that it was Ely who sat with her on all those terrible days, who _listened_ to her for the first time, saw her for who she really was and gave her the chance to _be_ that person. He was there when she left her parents’, when she dropped out of school, when she was little more than an empty shell of herself. And he was there too on all her best days—the night they got engaged, their wedding, those weeks spent moving into _their_ home, _together_ , and he was there through all the morning sickness and crotchety moods, in the delivery room holding her hand, unwavering as always, and then all those months after when she could barely even get out of bed. It was Ely who found her, who _always_ finds her, and he has never held this against her, even when she has yelled at him and broken things and cried herself hoarse because she wishes he would, she _deserves_ that, but he has never thought so, has he? He has seen her, _Adrienne_ —she is Adrienne Smith, his wife, mother of his children, his best friend, and he loves her for _her_.

She takes a moment, just to breathe. Katina does not speak; perhaps she is hopeful, waiting for the daughter she raised to respond to her, but Adrienne is not _just_ her daughter.

Finally, she says, “Ely loves me. He would never hurt me. He’s the best thing in my life.”

“Adrienne, _listen_ to—”

“I’m not listening to you,” she snaps. “Leave my children the fuck alone. Good- _bye_ , Mother.”

“Adrienne, don’t—”

Adrienne steps neatly aside as she lunges forward, stumbling. Briefly, she thinks she ought to say something, that she needs the last word, but of course it will not be the _last word_ , because this is what she does every time and the only difference now is that she can _see_ Katina, how pathetic she is. She has learned, hasn’t she? She has learned when to let _go_.

So she goes.

Outside, the sky is darkening to sunset, but she spots them immediately. Ely is quick to come to her, strong arms wrapped around her, hands stroking her hair.

“Are you okay?”

“I think we should go home,” she whispers.

He pulls away from her, reaching back to grab Poseidon’s hand. “Good idea. It’s been a long day. I think we’re all a little tired.”

Nobody can argue against that. They take the rest of this walk in heavy silence. She thinks of him, how close he is, and thinks of how much he has done for her all these years. There is a horrible ache in her chest, and she knows that one wrong step right now might have her in tears, but he is still here, as he always is, her husband, father of her children, her best friend…

The quiet remains only until they’re on the train, but Adrienne has just been waiting for one of them to say something and she is not surprised in the slightest that it is Nerissa, who has always been curious, ever the thinker:

“I thought your parents didn’t live around here.”

“They don’t. I don’t know why they’re here now.”

“Oh.” She chews on her lip, considering this, then asks, “Do you think they’ll come to our house?”

There is a nervous edge to her voice, which seems misplaced only momentarily, until Adrienne recalls what Katina said—or did not say, rather—about Ely. Nerissa has always been sensitive to these sorts of remarks, always so aware of the colour of her skin in a way Poseidon will never have to be. It is not as if they’ve ever said Adrienne’s parents are _good_ people, never mind _progressives_. She’s a smart kid. Whatever Ely may or may not have said to them outside the restaurant, she probably would’ve figured this out on her own.

Of course, Katina wasn’t thinking explicitly of race with that remark. More something about her whore of a daughter and the man who seduced her out of her parents’ control. Or perhaps this is just what Adrienne is thinking, because even all these years later she still sometimes looks in the mirror and thinks she is a disgusting, awful woman, that she really _is_ nothing except for all the things he has made her feel she is in his bed.

“I don’t think so,” Ely tells Nerissa quietly. “But if they do, you don’t need to see them yourself.”

Nerissa nods, clearly relieved by this. On her other side, Poseidon says, “She seems mean.”

Adrienne can’t look at him, at either of them. “She is.”

He doesn’t say anything more, and the rest of their commute is very quiet. At some point, Poseidon falls asleep and Ely takes to carrying him any time they need to get up and move, all the way back to the house. While he works on getting Poseidon to bed, Adrienne stays back to lock the door. She stands there for a moment, hands pressed bracingly against it, just breathing, and then Nerissa says very quietly from behind her, “Good night, Mom. I love you.”

Her chest swells as she turns around. “I love you too, sweetie. Good night.”

And with that she is gone, exhausted feet dragging her down the hall to her room.

Adrienne sighs, dropping her hands and following after her. She turns off into the sitting room and lowers herself down on the couch, pulling her legs up and hugging her knees to her chest, focussing on her breaths until they are deep and slow and calm. It won’t last, but it is good for now, there is control in this, she is all right…

Eventually, Ely comes back. He sits beside her, unspeaking, waiting, until she manages to say, “I’m really sorry.”

He turns to her with a small smile. “Why are _you_ apologizing? It’s not like you knew she was going to be there. Besides, we’re all okay. You’re not.”

“I’m not,” she agrees hoarsely.

“So, what do you need?”

Always so simple. He probably could assume correctly, but he won’t. He is always giving her the choice, always letting her have her control until she needs to lose it…

She loosens her hold and drops her feet down to the floor, twisting to face him fully. “You. Just you.”

One of his eyebrows quirks up in amusement. “How do you need me, then? Just say the word. Whatever you want.”

She reaches out for him and he scoots closer, until she can wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his neck. “It doesn’t matter,” she murmurs. “I love you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, holding her against him, lips against the top of her head. Finally, he says, “I’m really proud of you.”

Of course this will be the thing to push her tears forward. She doesn’t bother to try to hold them back, not here, not with him.

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay.”

“I always believe her.”

“It’s okay, though. You still turned away from her, didn’t you?”

“I...I feel bad about it.”

He pulls back just a bit, one hand coming down to draw her chin up, tilt her head back, until their eyes meet. “You’re still here, though.”

She responds by reaching up and capturing his lips in a kiss. It is slow and soft at first, but quickly grows in her desperation and she is pushing him back, down, touching him everywhere she can. His hands wind through her hair, pulling her closer to him, and she loves this, the _feeling_ of it, of him…

She pulls her mouth away from his, gasping. One of his hands comes to wipe her cheeks dry.

“You—you love me.” It is not a question, but maybe it sort of is, and he knows it.

“Of course,” he says. “More than anything.”

“You’ll never hurt me.”

“No, never.”

“And you’ll be here…”

“Forever, as long as you’ll let me.”

A slow, soft exhale has her leaning down against him again, bringing her head to rest against his chest. “I know. I know.”

“We can talk about it if you want.”

“No, that’s...that’s okay. I just need…”

“Okay,” he says simply. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He never has, never _will_. He lets her lie there on top of him, touch him and kiss him and hear the way he _breathes_ , that he is real and he loves her and he will never hurt her and he will always be right here.

The tears come and go, start then stop, but he is as immovable as ever. Eventually, he sits up, holding her close, and then lifts them both off the couch. She puts her nose down to his neck and lets her eyes fall contentedly shut. His arms are strong and warm and comfortable, as they have always been.

They finally separate when he lowers her down on their bed, and for a moment she just sits there, focussing on her breaths, and then she asks, “Will you undress me?”

He has wandered over to the dresser, back to her, but he turns again now and offers a smile. “Yeah. Just let me…”

His attention goes back to the drawer as he sifts through its contents in search of something for her to wear. It is always like this, she thinks, him making sure she is taken care of first. Sometimes, she worries she doesn’t do much in return, but the truth is that he doesn’t do this because he expects her to repay him somehow. He simply likes looking after her.

At last, he brings a set of pyjamas over to set on the bed beside her, then leans forward to grab one of her hands and give it a gentle squeeze. “You tell me what you want, all right?”

When she nods, he drops her hand and reaches down to pull her shirt up over her head. His fingers skate up her hips, soft and kind, along her sides and then back and over her shoulders. Once this is done away with, dropped down to the floor, his hands come down to her waist, trail over old scars. His fascination with them used to bother her, but she thinks she understands better now. To him, all the things she has always thought symbolic of weakness have rather been evidence of her strength.

He is not thinking of the fear in her eyes in the restaurant, but of what she did despite it. And despite, too, the moments of wavering… She does not need to tell him that she defended him against her mother. He does not care what Katina thinks of him at all. He never _has_. For him, it is about what Adrienne thinks of herself around Katina, what she thinks of herself _after_ these horrible encounters.

He unclasps her bra, slides it off her shoulders and then discards this to the floor too. This time, he is the one to kiss her, and she melts into him, his touch… He is always so gentle, until she needs him not to be, and she loves this about him, loves the way he treats her, the way he _loves_ her, because he does love her, of course he does, there is more than the band on his finger to prove it.

Her own hands slide under his shirt; each touch against his skin sends heat searing through her, shocks of arousal from the pads of her fingers all the way to her chest, deeper into her gut. She thinks of herself, nineteen years old, _vulnerable_ for the first time. There is something almost funny to it, herself a pathetic, clingy whore, but he is the only person who has ever seen her this way, who ever _will_. He is safe, and he loves her, and even if she sometimes does still doubt him, she knows this is true.

When they separate this time, he is the one pulling away, only just a bit. She brings her hands back and reaches up to touch his face. He does not say anything about the way they tremble against him.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you for taking them outside.”

His hands come up to cover hers, then wrap around them and gently tug them down between them, until he is intertwining their fingers. The smile he offers her is so sweet it makes her chest ache, and all at once her eyes are welling with tears again.

“You don’t need to thank me for that. I don’t want her in their lives either, you know.”

“I know.” Carefully, she frees her hands from his and reaches for the pyjama shirt he set beside her before. Once it is on, she finally has to ask, “Did they say anything?”

A beat passes, and then he sits down beside her. He is quiet until she glances over at him in expectation.

“Nerissa did. I think she assumed that the problem was me.”

“Well, isn’t it?” Adrienne tries and fails for a teasing smile.

He humours her with a short, small laugh, though. “I can’t help it, you know, that I’ve always been so sexy.”

This is enough to have her laughing too. She gives him a light shove, lips curved up. “Don’t be stupid. You did that all on purpose, I _know_ you did.”

“Maybe a bit,” he allows. “Only because you were pretty sexy yourself, really.”

“What, and I’m not anymore?”

“I didn’t say that. If anything, you’re even sexier now.”

She rolls her eyes. “All that extra weight I’ve gained over the years, is that it?”

“Oh, come on, you’re still so _light_. It’s not about any one thing, anyway. I just think you’re gorgeous. There’s nothing about you I don’t love.”

Pleased, she flushes. “I could say the same about you, you know. But—I mean, was she…?”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. “She’s fine. And she didn’t ask about you, if you were worried about that. She just said that what your mother said was messed up, really. Asked if that was why they’ve never met them before.”

“Because of you.”

“Yeah. I’m okay with that, you know. If you’d rather they think that’s all it is.”

She sighs, turning her face against his chest. “I think they deserve to know the truth someday.”

His other arm comes around her too, at the same time as he rests his cheek against the top of her head. “I think so too. And—the rest of it. They deserve to know that.”

“Not now,” she mutters. “They’re too young.”

“They’re getting older.”

Nerissa will be in seventh grade come September. Already halfway through school, and dreaming of what will come next.

Adrienne doesn’t remember much of her childhood. She remembers being slapped and having her hands burned on stovetop heaters and being told to go away until she wasn’t acting like a child, never mind that she _was_ a child. When she was twelve, she supposes she just wanted to please her mother. Sure, she spent plenty of time with the Archers, but otherwise…

She never went to school, was never _allowed_ to just “go out.” If she ever went somewhere without her parents, she certainly couldn’t lie about what she was doing, because she never did doubt that Katina would find out.

All she has ever wanted is to give her children a happier childhood than she got. She has failed them in many respects, but she does know that Ely will not let those failures set them back entirely. There is nothing they will ever hold against their children. They have always said this, that they will do everything to make sure their children are loved and happy and healthy, but it doesn’t undo the knot in Adrienne’s chest, the one that tightens so horribly after these kinds of things.

“I don’t want them to be like me,” she murmurs.

He says nothing, but that is all right, really; she knows what he thinks, what he would say to her if he did not know she would just deny it. They have this conversation so offen. It never really changes.

“Ely?”

“Yeah?”

He is so close that she can feel the vibrations of his voice deep in her chest, low and comforting. He has always given her so much security, has always been so _stable_ …

“You didn’t finish taking my clothes off.”

His laugh is the same. She lets her eyes fall shut and breathes it all in, everything about him…

“Do you _want_ me to?”

“I don’t really know.”

He pulls away, moving to kneel in front of her. “Maybe,” he whispers as his hands find her waist again, “I can keep going, and make you feel really good, and you can tell me if it’s too much. You think?”

His fingers hook under the waistband of her pants. A shiver runs up her spine, warm pleasure all through her body… She does not doubt at all that he will make her feel good, but it is always a gamble. It might leave her feeling better, or she might just let it all happen and she will be so much worse… He will never push her, though, not on purpose, not unless she _asks_ him to…

The backs of her hands brush against his cheeks. “Okay. I trust you.”

He smiles at her, then tugs her pants down. Elbows positioned to keep her propped up so she can still see him between her legs, she leans back and watches. At first, it is nothing more than light touches; they have her breathing hard, back arching, searing for him, but then there are his fingers, and he knows all the places to touch her where she will really feel it, of course, because he has been fucking her for fourteen years. Though, she has to admit, it probably wouldn’t matter where he touched her: he would have her in pieces regardless.

He is being slow tonight, however, giving her time. When his fingers pull back, his thumb slides up until all her nerves are on end. His tongue brushes against her skin, leaves her moaning in all her blinding pleasure. His mouth is warm and wet, feels so _good_ , has her fingers tightening around their bedsheets and her eyes fluttering shut.

His free hand roams over her thigh, half to anchor him and half just to make her _feel_ him. He is everywhere, inside-out, nearly the only thing she can sense at all, but the knot is not loosening, and the longer her eyes stay shut the sharper her thoughts grow again, until her breath is caught up in her throat and all she can do is sit up and push him back, shaking all over, gasping, “Stop, stop, please stop.”

He does, and says not a word as he instead works on discarding her clothes the rest of the way and helping her redress, then guides her into bed properly and settles in beside her. He touches her, but cautiously, like she might break, and maybe she could, really; even now, she sometimes feels like she will.

“Sorry,” she finally manages. “It’s so stupid.”

“It’s not.” He reaches down for one of her hands, winds their fingers together… “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen her. It’s okay. I get it.”

He doesn’t, not really, but she knows now that he _does_ mean it when he says these things, because of course he can never understand her situation, but he understands _her_ , and that is more than enough.

“I want it,” she says, pointlessly, and he gives her hand a gentle squeeze.

“I know. But I did mean it, you know. You are still so beautiful. You can have me whenever you want me, really. It’s not like _I’ll_ ever complain.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across her face. “I’m getting so old, though. If I had you that often, I’d never have energy for anything else.”

“Let me do the hard work, then.”

“No time, either. We’re not exactly twenty anymore.”

“I guess that’s true enough,” he concedes. “Are you okay? It is okay if you really don’t want to talk about it, but I’m happy to listen. I’ll be here all night, whatever you want.”

She leans against him with a small sigh. “I guess. I think I just...I never wanted… I can keep her separate from you and the kids, but it’s like—I can’t… They’re like two entirely different lives. I don’t know how to deal with those things just…”

As she trails off, he nods solemnly. “That makes sense. You had to change a lot to get out of her control. But even when I first met you, you know...you’ve always been strong and beautiful and funny… You _are_ the same person, even if it’s hard to see.”

“I don’t like that person much,” she mutters.

His arms wrap around her, loose but secure. “I know. I can love you enough for the both of us, though.”

Briefly, her lips twitch up, but then her eyes are filling with tears again. She scrunches her nose up against them with a sniffle. “It’s not f-fair.”

“I know, love. I know.”

“I can’t... _think_ — My head, everything—” She cuts herself off, swallowing back the sob that presses against the back of her throat. “Dammit, I _hate_ this.”

He shifts slightly, gives her room to push herself even closer to him, and then says, “You’re okay, Adrienne. Nothing will hurt you here. I’m not going anywhere.”

It rises up in her, until she is choking on it, but he just holds her a little tighter. Her tears spill over before the sob slips out from between her teeth and still he remains, as he always does… Even now, there was a _moment_ —just like all those years ago, she listened to her mother and thought that if she just left it all behind, she could finally be rid of this perpetual despair, but of course it is not something _she_ has manufactured; it is tied up in her bloodstream, and it has always been agitated, first and foremost, by the person who wove it in there herself.

Sometimes, she thinks she is too old to still be so hurt by her mother, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, does it? She can think this miserable thought as much as she wants to; it will never take the feeling away.

Ely doesn’t speak as she cries, and she doesn’t have the space between her aching breaths to say anything either. He holds her, steady as ever, always poised to catch her when she loses her footing to this spiral… Even once her tears are spent and only painful hiccoughs remain, he is there, just _breathing_.

Finally, though, he is the one to break the silence: “Better?”

She inhales deeply, letting her eyes fall shut as she buries her face in his chest, so that the words are muffled when she says, “I feel like shit.”

His arm wraps around her shoulders and pulls her in closer to him. “That’s okay, though. I’m here to listen if you want to talk, but—well, I’ll be here even if you don’t.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Who cares about deserving?” He drops a light kiss on the top of her head, then adds, “And whatever she might’ve made you think, it doesn’t matter if you believed her or not, because you still walked out of there yourself.”

“I hate the things she says about you.”

“I know. I don’t care, though. What about the things she says about _you_?”

A brief, uncomfortable pause winds around them, but eventually she has to admit, “I’ll probably never _not_ believe those. But she has no right to...to say those things about you w-when _you’re_ the one who… And she…”

Even as she stops, words snagged between two stuttering breaths, he is quiet. For a long moment, she struggles not to speak, but then it sort of just slips out: “She called you _abusive_ and I almost _believed_ her.”

He doesn’t move at all, does not so much as twitch, but even though he leaves her room to continue, her stomach has twisted with nausea and she cannot make herself.

At last, he says, “Almost. You _almost_ believed her. So what? That still means you _didn’t_.”

She inhales sharply, screwing her eyes shut tight. “I love you. I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

A small sigh, followed by gentle fingers along her forehead as he brushes her hair back. Still, she doesn’t open her eyes.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

All over again, she thinks she might cry. Her hands seek out the fabric of his shirt, holding it in trembling fists, as she tries to find her breath again.

“I’m not upset, Adrienne. I promise.”

“I...I just…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“She messes up— _everything_ , every time. I don’t… I wish… I _hate_ her.”

He doesn’t dispute this, though of course they both know it is not true. Instead, he says, “You’re allowed to feel badly, though. Even if you need a few days to sort yourself out, that’s fine. You weren’t expecting to see her. It’s been years. Give yourself some grace. I don’t mind looking after you.”

“I shouldn’t— _need_ that, not anymore. The kids—”

“Will be fine,” he cuts in calmly. “They’re old enough to tell that what happened upset you. They aren’t going to push you about this, and they’ll be all right if _you’re_ not all right. I’m here for all three of you. If you need me a little more than usual right now, then—that’s fine, because I _want_ to be here for you.”

Her jaw clenches, then unclenches. Hands still holding tightly to his shirt, she presses her nose against his chest. “It’s not _fair_ ,” she says again.

“I know.” His fingers, absent and light, brush through her hair. “Whatever you need, though...I’m here. All right?”

She nods, just barely, but he must feel it, because after a moment he asks, “Think you can sleep?”

A deep breath, and then another, and then she pushes herself up slightly, tilting her head to meet his eyes. When he smiles, she lets the next exhale draw her shoulders down and back, and she does her best to return it. Even if it is as miserable an expression as she fears it might be, he does not point it out.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “As long as you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, then pauses. “Except maybe to change and turn the lights off. Is that okay?”

Rather than giving a verbal response, she drops her hold on him and leans back against the headboard. With aching eyes, she watches him stand and go through the same motions as every night, these same little rituals she has observed him fall into over the past thirteen years here. This in itself offers a sense of comfort, a reminder— _this_ is her life, and Katina is not a part of it, not _really_.

No matter what her mother has said or done, it has not driven Adrienne away from her _real_ family, from _Ely_. She does not always say it, but she thinks he knows anyway: he is everything to her, always, and they are, of course, different people, but there is within her a piece of him, all the things he gave to her when no one else would. He has never hurt her, not like that, and he never _will_.

At last, he shuts off the light and returns to bed. With the children fast asleep in their own rooms and the dog at the home of one of Adrienne’s coworkers for the day, the night is pleasantly still and silent. She adjusts to lie down and buries herself in Ely’s side, relishing in the steadiness of his breaths, his consistency… His arms come around her, hold her as securely as ever, and she lets her eyes fall shut. Here, now, she does not need to think of her mother, does not need to dwell on all she said and all she did not get the chance to. This is her life, he is her husband; he holds a half of her heart all to himself, and he has always kept it _safe_.

For some time, they just lie there. Before long, though, she finds her awareness of her surroundings growing lesser and lesser, until finally sleep begins to swallow even her frenzied thoughts. He doesn’t waver at all, doesn’t speak; she can feel his heartbeat, so close to hers, each deep, relaxed breath… He will not go anywhere. No matter what comes tomorrow, he will be right beside her.

With this reassuring thought, his calming presence, she stops fighting her drowsiness, the same that always finds her when she gets so overwhelmed with emotion like this, and gives into the lull of sleep.

No matter what comes, he will be here forever, just like he always promised he would be. Katina and her awful misdirections mean nothing. She is safe, and comfortable, and loved, and this is all she has ever needed.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! xx
> 
> if you're interested in learning more about or reading my novel series, i post all info on twitter [@laphicets](https://twitter.com/laphicets) and tumblr [@kohakhearts](https://kohakhearts.tumblr.com)! feel free to find me for general writing updates too; i also sometimes take fic requests on both platforms!


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